


Help

by orphan_account



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Negative Thoughts, implied suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8814190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: His ma was right. He was nothing. Less than nothing. He was filth, meant to be beneath everyone’s feet. Walked on by his betters. There was nothing for him.





	

“There’s something bad in me,” Credence whispered, crossing himself. He had come here to escape, all of the aurors expecting him to have been killed, dead at their hands. But no, no he was still alive. He had slipped away unseen as they celebrated his death. The death of the _monster_.

There was no Mr. Graves to caress his tear-stained cheeks with soft touches. To pull him close and whisper promises of the bright future that was sure to come soon, if Credence was a good boy. Credence knew now that that future would never belong to him. He could never be a good boy. There was no good in him. Just bad, just inky, all-consuming blackness that hungered for pain and despair, and  _ everything _ . 

“I’m broken.”

There was no Tina to take his wounded hands in her gentle hands, carefully tending to him with a delicate touch. She had been a kind woman. The only kind woman, really. The only one to really care for him. 

“I’m bad for people. I’m bad. I’m bad. I-I’m  _ bad _ .”

His ma was right. He was nothing.  _ Less  _ than nothing. He was filth, meant to be beneath everyone’s feet. Walked on by his betters. There was nothing for him. 

“Credence?” came a lilting voice, soft, and almost sounding unsure. It made his breath hitch to hear it, before stopping. His heart stopped. 

“Credence, may I come in?”

“N-no,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. He cringed when he wasn’t even able to manage that much. He was useless, unable to even control that small of a thing about himself. 

“Alright, I’ll stay out here then.” There was some shuffling, fabric scraping against fabric, then sliding against wood, before stopping as Newt settled down on the dust ground, leaning against the same door that Credence was against. He could swear that he felt Newt’s heat through the aged, withered wood. For a long time--Credence didn’t know exactly how long, but it had to have at least been half an hour--they sat in silence, before Newt spoke again.

“You’re not alone, Credence,” he said, voice quiet and earnest. Credence could listen to it all day. “I know it may feel like you are, but you aren’t.” He paused, for a moment, letting Credence take in his words. When he heard no response, he continued, voice lilting with his gentle accent. 

“You are not worthless, either. You are a truly remarkable young man, despite what others have made you believe. I have never, in all my travels, met one like you.”

More silence. It was thick, like the cold blood pumping sluggishly through Credence’s veins. Slowly, it was warming. Warmed by kind words that were bringing a fresh wave of tears to his eyes that had nothing to do with the pain in his soul, or the darkness wrapped around his heart. 

“I would like to help you,” Newt continued. “If you’ll let me.” 

A click. Credence dropped his hand from the handle of the door, having unlocked it with a shaking hand. As soon as he heard it, felt it through the door against his back, Newt was on his knees. He reached up and opened the door, allowing the pitiful light from the single bare bulb down the hall to filter in and illuminate Credence. He crawled inside slowly, so as not to startle Credence, and leaned against the wall beside him. 

“Give me this,” he said softly, his eyes not leaving Credence’s as he put his hand over the boy’s. His grip was tight like the clutch of death, but it relaxed as Newt stroked his thumb over the back of it, going completely lax. Newt offered him a kind smile, his eyes warm as he gingerly pulled the glass shard from Credence’s bloodied hand. He set it aside, before lifting the young man’s hand and turning it palm up, slick blood catching the light as Newt drew his wand. 

“ _ Episkey _ ,” he said. Credence watched numbly as his flesh knit itself together, his ears ringing with white noise. He was sure he could feel it, on some degree. There was no way he couldn’t. But he couldn’t register anything. Nothing, until he felt a strong heartbeat against his chest and warm arms around him. Then, he could feel  _ everything _ .

He could feel his shoulders shake with sobs, the tears streaming down his cheeks that soaked Newt’s shirt. He could feel the cold filtering in through the rotting wall. He could feel Newt rubbing down his back soothingly, and stroking his fingers through his dark hair, holding Credence close. 

“That’s it,” he murmured, lips pressed to the top of Credence’s head. “I’ve got you, Credence. Everything is going to be alright.” 

When Newt said it in his slow, lilting voice, Credence could believe that eventually, things really would turn out okay.


End file.
